


Blood Donor

by Shazz92



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Demon Blood Addiction, Demon Deals, Dungeon, Gen, Men of Letters Bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6104584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shazz92/pseuds/Shazz92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds it difficult to concentrate when Crowley is covered in blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Donor

Sam could smell the blood before he’d even opened the doors. He could get through this; he’d been clean for years and cleansed by the Trials. Yeah, he could handle a bit of blood.

Creaks echoed around the dungeon as the shelving doors swung wide. Light streamed from the room behind, illuminating the dishevelled King of Hell, bound and bloodied, sitting at a table in the centre of the Demon’s Trap. Engraved chains ensured his captivity, even if he somehow managed to cancel the Trap. Yet, despite being a prisoner of the Winchesters, Crowley somehow managed to portray himself as the one in control; a king on his throne.

“Come to gloat, Moose?”

Sam closed the doors behind him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep focus; with each breath he took, the smell of Crowley’s blood invaded his mind. What was it he came in for? Oh, yeah.

“The list. Do you have it?”

Crowley frowned, analysing Sam’s body language and tone of voice. The young Winchester was distracted, that was obvious, but by what? Sam’s nostrils flared. Well, well, well…

“Smell my blood, can you? Much better quality than that of a mere black-eye, I can assure you. Fit for a King, you might say.”

_Focus, Sam! Get the list and get out, that’s it._

“Sorry, Moose, no list. But I do have an offer for you. Blood. Specifically, mine.” The demon King watched for Sam’s reaction. Dilated pupils, heaving chest, sweat beginning to glisten on the Moose’s massive frame, tongue darting out to soothe chapped lips. He was enraptured, caught in the web of Crowley’s words and held fast by the scent of power.

“Yes, Sam. I will gladly give you a vial of my delicious, high-grade life-juice, in exchange for…” He stared Sam directly in his eyes, “a vial of yours.” He licked his own lips, eyes pinned on the steadily throbbing vein in Sam’s neck.

“My blood, for yours?” Sam's voice was strained, a good sign for Crowley. Or so he thought.

“Of course. It’s a good deal. My blood would satisfy you in ways an average demon’s couldn’t. Can you taste it, Moose? Like a fine wine, it’d give you more strength than you’ve ever had.” His smile was that of a salesman with genuine belief in his product.

“And what’s to stop me from taking it, anyway?”

 _Bollocks._ That wasn’t part of the plan. Crowley swallowed, confidence diminishing in seconds.

“You wouldn’t.” He tried to sound aggressive but the fear could be heard in the slight crack of his voice.

It was Sam’s turn to smile, and he did so, sinking his teeth into Crowley’s neck.


End file.
